I started the bike and glanced at Anchor.He nodded once.We pulled out of the motel parking lot and headed toward the road back to Skull Island while the sun sank behind us.
The sky burned orange and pink over the tree line, and McKayla leaned into me as we picked up speed.
Behind us was the motel room where Erin had been photographed.Ahead of us was the island where the killer kept leaving his messages.And between the two, there had to be a connection.
We were getting closer.
I could feel it.
Closer to Erin.
Closer to the bastard playing games with us.
And when we found him, he was going to learn real fast that dragging McKayla into his game was the worst mistake he ever made.
Chapter Seventeen
McKayla
The stack of papers spread across the bed looked like the ramblings of lunatics at this point.
Old newspaper articles.Police reports.Notes Prime had written down after talking to people around town.A grainy photo of Caleb Token smiling beside a boat dock twenty-three years ago before he ended up dead in the lake.
Twenty-three years.
I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed with one article in my hand and another spread across my thigh while the laptop glowed beside me.My head still hurt if I focused too long, but I ignored it because there had to be something here.
Something everyone was missing.
Caleb Token drowned during a party near the lake.Bernice had been there.Shay’s mom had been there.A handful of old Kings of Anarchy members had been there.But none of the men currently in the clubhouse had even been patched in back then.
So why were they paying for it now?
Why had Bernice been murdered?
Why had Bob nearly been killed?
Why was my sister somehow tangled in the middle of all of this?
I rubbed both hands down my face hard enough to make my temples ache.“Do psychos ever make sense?”I muttered.
The bedroom door opened.I glanced up to see Push step inside before shutting the door quietly behind him.The second my eyes landed on him; my brain short-circuited straight out of investigation mode.
Dark jeans hanging low on his hips.Black T-shirt stretched across his chest with his cut over it.Tattoos disappearing beneath his sleeves.Slightly messy dark hair like he’d run his hands through it ten times already tonight.
He looked tired, dangerous, and unfairly attractive.
“Time to take the PI hat off, baby,” he said.
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already moving toward me.He took the papers from my hands before I could stop him and stacked them neatly together.
“Push-”
“You’ve been staring at this shit for hours.”
“There has to be something more I’m not seeing.”
“You can try again tomorrow.”
